Shattered Facade of a Prussian Life
by Milk of Awesomeness
Summary: Lovino was living an rather decent, safe, life with his boyfriend Antonio, but then he walks in on something that he shouldn't have, and his world as he knew it is forever shattered. And maybe, for someone else, much more than that. NATIONVERSE
**This story has a graphic mention of rape. If you are sensitive or easily triggered please don't read it.**

 **Disclaimer: Originally I was just going to create a random nation OC for a fake nation to do this (for a nationverse thing) out of respect for the people from real nations, or have it be a human OC, but then I got this idea. And I'm going to try to keep this as un-weeb as possible and I won't try to be disrespectful to anyone's nations. It's just a fanfiction. And I'm not glorifying anything. Rape is disturbing and disgusting. It should never be shown as okay and you always should get consent first.**

 **So during the scene human names are the only things that will be used out of respect for the characters and the citizens of the respective countries.**

* * *

A man with dark brown hair walked through the streets of Spain in a hurry. If someone were to ask he was just trying to hurry home to make sure his idiot boyfriend hadn't done something stupid like blow himself up while he pretended that he had a business meeting so he could go and surprise him with a date night.

He wasn't really the mushy, affectionate type, never had been, but it was their anniversary tomorrow and he wanted it to be perfect. He had taken off of work to plan out the whole thing today and was just now finishing up.

"Hey, Lovino!" He heard someone call. He turned to his next door neighbour's house and promptly waved to the woman that had called his human name. The nation was the Representative of South Italy, but ever since he had started dating Spain, he had moved back in with him, the distance being too much. For the first month, he stayed in his childhood room before he decided to further their relationship and slip into Spain's bed wordlessly one night. Now, the two had been together for three years, which wasn't a lot by nation time. Romano had known him his whole life though, and Spain had been his former caretaker. He believed wholeheartedly that he was safe, reliable, trustworthy. The idea that he could be anything else was unthinkable.

So why the fuck had he returned home to this?

He wasn't sure what to make of the scene as he entered his house. Albino Potato—Prussia— and Wine Bastard—France—were clearly here because he saw their cars in the driveway. He didn't think much of it. He couldn't stand France and Prussia was only tolerable, but they were Spain's friends.

However, they weren't sitting in the living room with alcohol like they normally were, nor were they messing with any video games that Prussia brought over. In fact, Romano could hear nothing except for someone moaning. He ran to his bedroom, an unsettling feeling in his chest.

"Antonio!" He called out as he opened the door. His face turned into shock when he observed the scene. All three were naked and Antonio had what should have been Lovino's and Lovino's only shoved inside of Gilbert's mouth. Antonio's hand was in his hair, seemingly petting it in an affectionate way that should have been for Lovino and Lovino only. Francis was behind the Prussian, thrusting into him, but Lovino only had eyes for his boyfriend. Antonio pulled his member out of Gilbert's mouth in shock and Francis did the same from the other end. Gilbert collapsed onto the floor with a pained yelp and scrambled back away from the other three. Only then did Lovino notice that he was crying, but he turned back to look at Antonio, not caring. "Get out." Lovino said, clearly talking to him. "Now." The Italian was calm, but anyone who knew him knew that meant he was angrier than normal.

However, Antonio was never able to read the atmosphere. "Lovi. This is my house." Antonio said with a whine.

"Don't call me Lovi, you bastard! And get the hell out now before I kick your ass straight to Hell!" He yelled. "And take your bastard boyfriends with you." He said. Antonio and Francis left the room, both mumbling obscenities under their breaths. Lovino turned to Gilbert, eyes full of burning hatred. "Oi! Dammit, albino potato. Did you not—" He cut himself off as he took in Gilbert''s appearance.

As he had noticed before, he was crying, which now that he thought about it was odd for him. He was too "awesome" for tears. He was visibly shaking and it was clear that Francis hadn't seemed to care that entering him dry was a bad idea because while Lovino didn't necessarily want to be looking down there in the first place, his nakedness made it clear to the Italian that he was bleeding from an area that he didn't need to be bleeding from, and his hips looked bruised.

Honestly, while Gilbert's sex life had never crossed his mind, some red flag was going off in his mind and for a few seconds he couldn't figure out what it was, until he realised... _Gilbert is too aggressive and dominating to will himself to be submissive like that, and besides that... When the hell had he ever shown any interest in anything other than fighting?_

Suddenly, Lovino's mind was flashing moments from his childhood, things that he had remembered unconsciously, and other stories that had been related to him throughout the years. Stories about Gilbert when he was serious about celibacy as the Teutonic Knights or when he would suddenly become awkward about sexual situations. Gilbert may have been rowdy but he was also a recluse. Gilbert always wanted to drink but never brought anyone home, Gilbert confessed his sins every time he so much as accidently touched someone somewhere intimate almost immediately, even after he had converted to Lutheran.

Francis was a pervert, but surely he would never have actually…. And Antonio… He would never dare… Lovino thought back to when he was a colony, the times that the Spaniard would return solemn and serious instead of how he normally behaved, the expressions of the other children under his wing, the ones from Latin America. Those bitter, jealous looks in his way. They had been tortured and treated roughly. They were dark-skinned and foreign. New land to conquer. Lovino was an Italy. A European. Not something to torture and control but something to want.

No, if he thought about it they were both completely capable of the crime that had clearly been committed here. He stepped closer anyway, knowing that whatever had happened he didn't want anyone in this room, even himself. He'd go in later when he could face it and collect his stuff so he could ship it back to his place in Naples. For now, he was more focused on the Prussian.

He moved closer to him and Gilbert just shriveled up and moved closer to the wall, letting his head bang into the wall behind him. While Lovino heard a loud noise from the collision, Gilbert didn't seem to register it. The Italian frowned and resumed, though he advanced slower, treating him almost like a wounded animal with his slow movements.

Dammit. Lovino had known Antonio for hundreds of years. He had cared for him for a good chunk of that time. And yet he had never thought he would do something like this. Of course he hadn't. Who would? And Francis? Sure he was a pervert and could be creepy at times, but to do something like _this_ to your own best friend? Lovino was sickened.

"Come on Gilbert." He said softly, reaching for his hand to help him up. The other nation crunched up against the wall and Lovino had never felt more disgusted in his life.

And sure, the Italian had threatened Antonio and the wine bastard plenty of times but usually he was never completely serious or just trying to protect himself from the pain that rejection would bring him. Now, he wanted to hunt them both down and beat the two up so much that they wouldn't be able to walk for the next few hundred years. Hell, maybe he'd castrate them for good measure.

He sighed and sat down beside him, not touching him. The longer he stayed in this room of infidelity and lies the more he was suffocating but cleaning Gilbert up and helping him was much more important. After what he had gone through, Lovino's problems seemed trivial.

He didn't know how long the two had been sitting there before Gilbert spoke quietly. "D-don't tell West. I don't want him to see me like this." His normally arrogant, prideful expression was washed away. Replaced with pain, betrayal, panic, fear.

Lovino gulped. "Why would I tell him anything. I figured you'd be able to tell by now but I don't like your brother."

Gilbert let out a cold laugh, none of his usual energy in it. "Don't tell your brother then. He'd tell mine and West doesn't need to know how weak I am."

Lovino frowned. "You're not weak."

"I'm not even a nation." He protested. "And I couldn't fight off those two. Those two aren't like America or Birdie or Sweden or bruder."

Lovino wasn't sure who Birdie was, and decided not to ask. Instead, he just frowned. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what I mean." Prussia's eyes glanced downward to his lap. "They're my friends but they're two of the weakest nations I know. That makes me weak."

Romano frowned. "Bullshit. Besides, those assholes are not your friends."

"Why are you even being so nice to me?" He asked with a sigh. "I don't deserve your pity."

"Prus—"

"Don't call me that!" He snapped before his eyes went wide. "I–" Romano realised then that this was more than just what had happened with Francis and Antonio. That was just the catalyst, the breaking point of something that had been clearly building up since his dissolution, maybe even before.

Romano wondered if when Gilbert called himself the "awesome" if he ever really believed it. He was terrified of knowing the answer. "Hush." He muttered, brushing his hair out of his eyes with a kind of gentle touch that he normally only reserved for Belgium.

Prussia tensed but leaned in slightly when he felt the soft touch. Romano stood up slowly and pulled him up. "If I can't call your fratello to get you who the hell am I supposed to get? Austria?"

Prussia shook his head, turning green. "Not him. He's worse." Romano knew of their history and decided that Prussia was right.

"Who then?"

"Canada." He said automatically. There was a light blush on his face, causing Romano to raise an eyebrow.

"Who?"

Prussia sighed. "Forget it. I'll just stay here."

"No you're not. I'm not going to let you stay in Spain you idiota! I'm not staying here! You'd be here with Antonio." Prussia shook. "I'm not letting you do that."

"Take me with you to Italy then."

"I thought you wanted to go to Canada." Romano wasn't sure who Canada was, but the name sounded vaguely familiar. He knew they were another nation.

Prussia blushed a second time. "I–It doesn't matter. It was a stupid idea anyway." Romano sighed. Whoever this Canada was it was clear that Prussia had a crush on them or at least a soft spot.

Romano sighed and led him to the bathroom, deciding to clean him up and find him clothes before he even tried to talk to him more about the matter. Prussia curled into himself and Romano had to remind him that he was perfectly safe about ten times before he got into the tub. Romano stepped out to let him have privacy.

Prussia was ashamed. The only thing that he had going for him was his devotion to his own world of solitary confinement. If he was alone, away from the other nations and the world in general, then reality didn't matter.

Now, his own choice to do anything... To be a virgin as long as he wanted to—he _had_ been a virgin—or to give it up to Birdie when he decided to was completely stripped away in two seconds.

With that in mind, he might as well give in to what he already knew was going to eventually happen. His fingers traced faint scars. The memories of where he had gotten them weren't recent by human standards. He wasn't healing as fast as a nation did. He was fading in the same way that Germania had, like his brothers and sisters had after Germany had been unified.

He had no choice of his own anymore and he only realised it now. He was never awesome. He was just always weak, useless, pathetic. He was an asshole anyway, he deserved what he had gotten. Besides, it was his fault. He didn't fight them hard enough, didn't say stop clear enough.

He couldn't stop himself from thinking back on it. France mentioning to Spain that Romano was out and then some lewd joke about a _ménage à trois_ that led to him sucking Spain's dick in a way that hinted that this wasn't the first time. It was just the first time that Gilbert had witnessed it.

Gilbert had protested on Lovino's behalf. Sure, the Italian was foul-mouthed and rude, but that Antonio would cheat on the person that he doted on so quickly after he had stepped out to do something—Gilbert wasn't completely sure what it was—sounded completely preposterous. The other two had just stared at him. Francis had frowned. "Mon ami, you sound like such a virgin. Hush, Romano wouldn't mind if we shared l'amour." He winked. "It's a bit lonely with only two, don't you think, Toni?"

Antonio had looked back at Gilbert and licked his lips. The Prussian backed up against the wall of the room, not sure why he was still in there before he remembered that he had nowhere else to go. West had forbade him from even so much as entering the home when Italy came over now. They were probably fucking. His eyes flickered to the door, deciding to leave the room and let the two… whatever they were…. Have some privacy. And if Lovino came home, well, he wasn't sure what he was going to do.

Antonio pouted. "Leaving so soon, amigo?" Gilbert turned back to the duo with an annoyed sigh and somehow found himself pushed back fully into the room with a gentle hand. He groaned.

"I don't want—"

"Why not?" Francis' signature laugh was in his ear, his hands sliding up his shirt and Gilbert froze. He was just up to his regular flirty ways. He would let him go anyway. Always did when he got like this. "Let us take care of you. Hmm?"

"Fuck off, Franny." He mumbled. The hands grew possessively rougher, squeezing one of his nipples. Gilbert had let out an involuntary whimper. No wonder they had... He had led them on. Of course, it was always his fault.

Gilbert hadn't fought too seriously at first. His friends wouldn't hurt him. It wasn't until Antonio had started to unzip his pants when he had told either of them to stop. He reasoned that he had must have said it too quietly or something. That was it. A giant misunderstanding.

When he had once again told them to stop when Antonio was palming him up and attempted to get away with all the strength that he had left, Francis dug his nails into his chest with a laugh. "Mon ami, hush. Why are you fighting? You're clearly enjoying this. Why, you're not even fighting us too hard." Gilbert declined to say that he was turning human. He _was_ this weak. He _was_ fighting them as hard as he could.

But he was not enjoying it, even as his member stretched in Antonio's hand. How could he? But maybe he did. Maybe the two took the reaction to the stimulation as a yes rather than the no that it had been in his mind.

It was when Francis had pushed into him _dry_ when he yowled loudly in pain, so much that he had to have Antonio kiss him to shut him up, which had led to Gilbert being forced to suck his member, the Spaniard's hand holding him still in a sickeningly affectionate but rough way.

Hell, even now Gilbert had to lean against the side of the tub just to keep himself standing. But hey, he couldn't blame them. He was supposed to be able to heal properly, be able to take such a rough penetration, virgin or not. He was just weak.

Gilbert washed himself five times while in the shower and no matter how much he did it or how rough he scrubbed himself he still didn't feel clean. He still felt disgusting and broken, dirty even. Used. Worthless. Shameful. Not awesome. He never had been awesome, just pathetic.

A knock on the door snapped him into reality. Romano opened the door and placed some clothes down. Romano was fairly short, even smaller than Italy, so Gilbert panicked. He didn't want to wear any of Antonio's clothes. He'd rather stay naked. However, the clothes he recognised as his own. Ones that he had probably left there in the guest room one night and then forgotten about.

He shut off the water after Romano had left, limping as he went to the sink to grab the clothes. Luckily, there were boxers, which he had difficulty sliding on. Once he had managed changing he went out into the hallway, clinging onto the wall to hold himself up. Romano frowned and reached out to help him. He flinched back. He didn't need help.

Prussia curled up on the couch. He knew that logically neither of them wanted to stay here, at least not in this house—in fact, he just wanted to flee, his fingers itching for escape from an unknown danger even now—but he didn't think he could make it.

"Hungry?" Romano asked, none of his usual anger in his voice, though he was scowling.

"Wurst?" He asked weakly before remembering who he was talking to. Romano hated German food. Why would he do anything for him anyway? He didn't deserve it. He was probably just asking to be polite. Probably wasn't going to make him anything.

Romano grimaced but gave him a nod. "I'll be back." He muttered, visually hesitating before he reached up to brush some of his hair softly. Prussia always liked having his hair pet or pat, and somehow, this touch was acceptable. It didn't make him tense like when Romano had approached him.

* * *

Romano, sure enough had gotten him wurst, as indicated from the bag that he had come back with fifteen minutes later. Thirty minutes after that, Prussia was eating that along with a microwaveable bowl of processed instant mashed potatoes. **(1)** Prussia had never realised it was a thing, but Romano had bought it. Made sense considering the Italian had probably never gone near an actual potato in his life. Prussia didn't expect him to know how to even peel one.

As for the wurst, it was admittedly better than West's, regardless of Romano's dislike for the food. Prussia assumed it was to do with his Italian genes and natural cooking ability. He felt bad about making him touch food that he thought was "disgusting" and "a mockery of real food" but Romano was willing for some reason. _Because he pities me. Because he's still upset about Antonio so he's not in the mood to be a dick_ , Prussia thought to himself as he bit into his wurst.

Romano watched him from the kitchen, guiltily. He couldn't get the idea out of his mind. Spain could have done this to him at any of the time that they had been living together, even when he was a kid. And France, who had wanted him as a colony. He shuddered, hoping that France hadn't done anything like that to one of his charges.

Romano walked back over to the Prussia's side and when he sat down on the couch Prussia couldn't help moving closer to him so that his head was in his lap. Romano let out an agitated sigh but his hand slowly made its way back into his hair. It reminded Prussia how pathetic he was, that even Romano felt that he had to be gentle with him. The hand felt nice anyhow.

Romano's eyes fell on the faded wounds on Prussia's arms. He frowned, reaching his hand out for Prussia's arms. "They left a number on you, huh?" He said with a humourless laugh.

"It wasn't them." He winced. Romano raised an eyebrow. "It was West's dog. A-and it wasn't recent either."

Romano looked confused, and then his eyes lit up in realisation. He must have already lived through this process with Rome, Prussia decided. "Y-you're—" Prussia looked away. Romano's frowned deepened. "Did you even tell the pot—your brother?"

"Why would I? I don't want to worry him. And fading means I'm weak. I can't let my little bruder see me like this. He'd be ashamed."

"What the hell you bastard! You can't just ignore it until it goes away! It doesn't work like that, dumbass!" Prussia flinched and Romano went back to talking quietly, rubbing his hair in comfort. "If no one knows then nobody would get any closure. They'd feel abandoned and robbed of their chance to say goodbye. And sure, you could theoretically come back every once and awhile, I assume, like Grandpa does—fucking creeps me out when he does that—but it's not the same. Besides, Germany is a fucking stupid bastard, but he does worry about you. After all, he worries about my idiot fratello and I know he's hard to handle." Prussia just looked at him amused. "And my fratello would be beside himself sick if anything happened to you. Miss Hungary and the piano bastard might not look like it at times, but they do care about you in a weird way."

"They don't. They hate me."

"Well, fuck them then. I would worry about you, dammit, even if no one else is smart enough to care about someone so… awesome." Romano was completely unsettled by the way Prussia was acting. Not like himself. More like… well him, without the cursing. It wasn't right. Romano hated seeing him so broken down, and he almost wanted the Frenchman and Antonio to return so he could personally castrate them both and then shove their own dicks up their—He decided not to finish that thought lest he actually attempt it. It was becoming increasingly tempting.

"Don't call me that." Prussia said. "I'm not." Romano sighed, dropping his hand from his hair. Prussia almost asked for him to continue, but realised how stupid and pathetic that sounded.

"Come on, albino potato." Romano, muttered, pressing his lips against his forehead softly. "I'll take you back to Germany's." The word sounded foreign on his tongue when it wasn't followed by an insult.

If Prussia noticed then he didn't say anything. He was too busy panicking, and Romano was quick to notice. "I'm not going to tell him anything."

"Not even about—"

Romano sighed. He didn't like the idea of Germany being left in the dark about any of what was going on. If Veneziano had been through even a portion of what Prussia had been in just the last few hours Romano would want to know. If Venice was sinking, if Veneziano was dying, Romano would kill him himself if he had refused to tell him.

But it was Prussia's secrets to tell, and frankly if it had been Veneziano there was no way in hell he would want anybody other than Veneziano to tell him what had happened. So much to his chagrin, Romano opted to stay quiet.

So when Prussia drove home to Germany the next morning and snuck into the house, grabbed a beer, and headed to his room in the basement, Ludwig was completely unaware what had happened.

* * *

For the next three months life went on as normal as possible, though Germany was getting worried. He'd had to pick up Prussia's stuff whenever he left it around, which was both aggravating and strange. Prussia might look like a troublemaker but he was methodical and orderly, as much as Germany himself.

Prussia flinched every time he touched his shoulder or made a sudden movement. He lashed out at Italy and ended up backing himself into a corner when the small brunette had grabbed him into a hug. If Spain or France had come over to see him he would lock the basement door. After seeing the idiots off as politely as he could without having a headache, Germany would pick the lock and find Prussia curled up in a ball, shaking.

Finally, Germany had had enough. He wasn't sure what had happened but his brother was acting weird, and the World Meeting was coming up. He wasn't going to leave Prussia alone with his newfound behaviour. Whatever had happened between him, Spain, and France was probably not anything major, Germany reasoned. Prussia would be back to normal if he made up with them. After all, it seemed to have been them who had affected him and they had been friends longer than Germany had been alive. Whatever it was, they just needed some bonding time to get over it.

He banged on the basement door. "Gilbert!"

His brother responded. "What, West?" He made his way up the steps to open the door. He wasn't wearing the tux that Ludwig had set out for him.

"What are you wearing?"

"Uh, clothes?"

Germany frowned. "Did you not see what I had set out for you?" He groaned. "Did you really forget about the meeting today you _dummkopf?"_

Prussia just looked confused. "Ja, I knew that you had a meeting today. Why did you set out stuff for me? Miss me so much that you had to pretend that I was going?" He let out a laugh that sounded forced.

"Nein. You need to come with me."

"I'm not a nation."

Germany frowned. "Well, either way, Spain and France—" Prussia's face became an emotion that he didn't recognise and the door slammed shut faster than he could react. Germany scowled and went to open it but found it locked.

After picking it and dragging his screaming brother to the car, tossing him unceremoniously into the back seat, Prussia had curled up into a tight ball with a feral growl that was almost animalistic. "I _hate_ you." Prussia snarled with a fierce glare.

Germany's heart ached. Prussia... His bruder who had quite literally created his nation. He hated him? Prussia had never said that to him before. And if Prussia out of all people hated him... Did everyone hate him? Is that the real reason why Japan and Italy were his only friends?

Trying to ignore the thoughts, Germany headed to pick up Veneziano and unfortunately Romano judging by the other figure next to the bubbly Italian when they pulled up. When the two got into the car Prussia winced when Italy tried to hug him, though Romano just glared at his brother and mumbled "I told you not to touch him and only to hug the potato bastard if you had to hug anyone, you idiot." At first Germany just decided that Romano was being himself but he had to chalk it down to the Prussia and Spain feud when Romano seemed to be irritated only by the albino's presence. Germany was admittedly a bit behind in the nation gossip but he knew that Romano had been dating Spain so he figured that his behaviour made... sort of sense for once. Not to mention Prussia hitting Italy a month back just for greeting him...

Actually... now that he thought about it... "I thought you were living with Antonio." Germany said with a frown.

Romano scoffed and turned to Veneziano. "You mean you haven't told the potato bastard? Figured you told him everything, dammit."

"Tell me what, exactly?" Germany's scowl deepened.

"Veh.. Fratello and Big Brother Toni broke up." Veneziano said as he manoeuvred into the front seat so he could give Ludwig a kiss on the cheek and a hug.

"Oh." Germany blushed, thinking that he had put his foot in his mouth. Romano rolled his eyes as he crawled into the backseat beside Gilbert. Prussia seemed to relax a bit with Romano beside him, even curling into the Italian.

Romano didn't even yell and while he tensed from the touch he did not even say a word. His eyes were burning with pure hatred and disgust but if Ludwig didn't know any better he'd say it had nothing to do with the way his brother was leaning on the Italian, clinging to him.

Romano started stroking Prussia's hair softly, like he had that night. It would take a long time for him to feel okay again, if ever. It wasn't until the albino was asleep on his shoulder when Romano looked up at the potato bastard. "Why the fuck did you think that taking him to the World Meeting was a good idea, Macho Potato. It'll just make him worse, dammit."

"What's wrong with him?" Germany asked accusingly.

"I'm not allowed to tell you, dumbass." Romano said, rolling his eyes. Germany glared at him and almost swerved off the road. "Don't look at me like that, bastard. I wouldn't have obeyed him if I didn't know it was something that he needed to tell you himself."

"Why would he tell you?" Romano didn't answer. Germany opened his mouth to threaten him but Veneziano cut him off, changing the subject to one of Greece's cats. He sighed.

The car remained oddly quiet the entire time despite all of the other three being usually so annoyingly loud. Veneziano for once seemed to notice the atmosphere and kept his gaze outside. Romano just scowled while Prussia remained asleep the whole way. The only noises other than the car were the small whimpers that came from the sleeping albino.

* * *

By the time that they had gotten to the meeting, most other nations were already there. France and Spain were talking quietly in the corner of the conference room. Romano and Prussia both grimaced and Romano attempted to block their view of Prussia though he knew that it was futile. Romano wasn't exactly tall enough to make that work as well as he wanted it to.

Spain and France didn't seem to notice him, at any rate, but Romano knew not to believe that it would remain that way. He had never been that lucky, him and Prussia both. Romano wanted to murder Germany more than he already did, even though he knew it wasn't his fault. Prussia hadn't wanted to tell him what had happened. Prussia being anywhere near those two disgusted him, but as much as he wanted to, Romano couldn't blame the potato bastard for this. Now, he just needed to make sure that Prussia was nowhere near them. He refused to let him be harmed or unsafe.

One good thing did come out of the first half of the meeting. Romano finally figured out which nation Canada was. He looked a lot like America, though he was much quieter. Romano had probably talked to him before, though he must have forgotten. Canada did look a bit like France. They had the same long blonde hair, only Canada had a curl, like Romano. Everytime Romano saw a nation with a curl he absently wondered if the nation had the same reaction as he did to it being pulled. Not that he was that perverted as to test it out.

Prussia's eyes landed on Canada. He expected to feel the same relaxing feeling that he got from Romano, who he knew wouldn't hurt him, who was safe. He didn't. In fact, just the reminder that the boy was raised by _France_ revolted him. Which was ridiculous. Romano was raised by Spain. Why did he feel comfortable with him but not with Canada? Prussia felt sick and angry at himself. How dare he feel so put off by seeing his own crush now? Was the difference because Romano had helped him? Because Romano had protected him, attempted to shield him from himself.

Canada had been by to see him a few times in the last month, though any time he he had received a concerned visitor he had turned them away. Except for Romano, who only came by when he knew that West and Veneziano—when had Prussia started calling Italy that?—were out and together on one of their "not-a-dates."

He glanced at Hungary and Austria. Both were looking rather concerned in his direction. Oh yeah. They had been over to Germany's a few times as well. Prussia figured that they were just wondering what he was planning as he hadn't pranked or taunted either of them for a while. That was all he was good for anyway. All he would ever be good for. Fighting and being reckless. Being annoying. How could anyone even stand to look at him?

Even now they were both watching him as if they were expecting him to do something. Prussia squirmed in his seat. He wanted to escape, but Germany wouldn't let him. Not without him telling him what had happened, why he had become so pathetic that he was afraid of his own shadow now. Gott, he was so worthless. West must be ashamed.

It was at their break when France and Spain approached him. Romano attempted to stand as a barrier between them but that failed when Germany pulled him back. Romano was about to snap at the bastard when a voice spoke up and his blood ran cold. "Amigo?" Spain sounded almost worried.

He ran to give Prussia a hug but the other nation—well, not a nation—moved to the side to avoid it. Romano could see that he was shaking. "You haven't called or asked to see me." Spain frowned. "Do you hate me?" He seemed confused, as if he genuinely had no idea what he had done. Romano felt nauseous.

Prussia moved back more, glaring at the two, visibly shaking. Most other nations had already stepped out to go out. After all, this was Italy. They had the best food. Veneziano had left as soon as Germany had called the meeting with America and a few others, probably showing the other nations the best restaurants. Others were just skipping the second half of the meeting. A few were still around other than Antonio and Francis. Canada, Germany, Romano, China. But only Romano was safe. And Romano... "Let me go, potato bastard! He's not safe, dammit!" Romano squirmed.

Germany sighed. "Whatever happened between the three is their business."

"It's mine too, you ass!" Prussia looked back at the other two nations in fear. He couldn't escape. He needed to get out of here. Canada looked a bit worried. China and the few others had long got up to go eat outside or in the cafeteria.

"Mon ami? Is there something wrong?" France frowned.

Prussia twitched. Romano in a desperate last resort, bit down on Germany's arm around him. In a blur, Spain was on the ground, glancing up at the nation who had punched him. "Romano?"

"Don't fucking go near him." Romano said, his face dark. He was cowardly at times, but he was dead serious when something of this caliber was at stake. When someone he cared about was in danger or unsafe.

France chuckled. "Little Romano, Prussia's our friend. You don't need to act like such a jealous lover."

Canada frowned. He wasn't dating Prussia but the implication that Romano was unsettled him. Actually, the whole situation was concerning. "Papa?" He asked.

France didn't seem to hear him. Of course he wouldn't over Romano's current ranting. "Not the albino potato's damn lover, you stupid pervert!"

Spain stood up, still a bit dizzy from the punch. "Lovi. What was th—"

"Don't call me Lovi." Romano said with a kick to his shin that didn't seem to hurt him. "Smug bastard."

* * *

Prussia had left the room in the chaos. No one seemed to notice except for Germany. Germany followed him with a scowl. "Bruder you can't just hide. Whatever happened between you three isn't important. You've been acting completely odd for the last few months and it's concerning me."

Prussia glowered at him for a few seconds before speaking gruffly. "You don't know shit, bruder. I'm weak. I'm _dying._ "

"You're not." Germany said, shaking his head in denial. "You can't be."

Prussia sighed, showing him one of his scars. "West, I'm not a nation anymore. I don't heal quickly. I got this one from Aster biting me. _Four months ago."_

* * *

Romano meanwhile had long forgotten that Canada was in the room still. In fact, no one seemed to notice that he was even there. "I can't stand to look at either of you piece of shits. After what you _did_ to him." France and Spain looked confused. Feigned certainly.

Romano continued with his accusation to which France and Spain just denied. "He liked it, no?" France said. The

"He was a virgin." Romano stressed. "Even if he had wanted it, which he clearly didn't, you had no right to ent—"

"He's a nation." Spain said. "He can take it rough, Lovi." He reached out, presumably to touch the Italian, though Romano quickly averted that intention by shoving his arm away. "You loved it when—"

"He's not a nation!" He suddenly shoved France back into the wall with a surge of strength that he had forgotten he possessed through the years of cowardice. "You assholes dissolved his country! You! America! England!" He would have continued with Russia but frankly he was too terrifying. "Did you think he would miraculously live through that! Dumbasses! All of you!"

Canada had been listening patiently for Romano to shut up. Once he had, Canada stood up, fists clenched. "Romano." He said, sternly. His voice came out a bit louder than usual, though not by much.

Prussia could still hear it from outside, just as Germany could hear what Romano had accused the two of. His head was reeling, wondering if it was true.

"Si?" Romano's voice was sharp even when talking to him.

"That's a huge accusation to make." Canada muttered. "Papa would never hurt another nation. Don't listen to England."

"But he—"

Canada crossed his arms, attempting to look imposing. He had a natural harmless demeanour so it was almost impossible. With that in mind. Romano wasn't to threatened. "Whatever Prussia told you was some sick joke. France wouldn't harm his own friend. He's too loyal. Besides, Prussia is a strong nation. He could easily have fought them off if he wanted to."

Canada looked pained. He had been in love with his friend, but now Prussia was making disgusting allegations towards France just for some sick joke. Canada had heard so many people speak like that about France, call him a dirty pervert or claim he had molested them. Prussia knew how much it hurt Canada who France would never think to harm. Who had burst into tears as a child whenever he heard England say anything bad about his old caretaker.

And for Romano to believe Prussia's nonsense was despicable. It wasn't just Francis who had been the victim of Prussia's joke but also Antonio. Wasn't Spain to Romako what France was to Canada, if not more? Why would he take Prussia's side?

Romano went to reply but France went to cut him off before he could take out his rage on Matthew as well. "Besides...You're in error, little Lovi." He poked the Italian's nose which made it crinkle in disgust. "Prussia was no virgin."

Romano looked at him in disbelief. "You sure? Had you ever fucked him before then?"

"No." He said sadly. "That was the first time Prussia joined in with me and Toni."

"Have you ever walked in on him having sex?" Canada decided to walk out then. Germany and Prussia were outside of the door. Germany glared at the Canadian. Prussia wouldn't even look at him, curled up on a ball on the floor covering his ears.

Canada opened his mouth to talk to him, but Germany just told him to go away. Canada was a bit scared of Germany, especially during world meetings when he was even more irritable so he sighed and did just that as his heart shattered.

"Well no..." Gilbert heard Antonio say. "But he's old enough that there's no way he could be, si?"

"Did he tell either of you to stop?" Lovino said. "Was he crying? Trying to get away?" Francis and Antonio were silent, confirming his suspicions.

Ludwig looked at his brother. His strong, arrogant, prideful older brother. Gilbert looked completely broken, even almost lifeless. He wanted to rip the two apart with his bare hands. He hadn't even felt this way about Ivan when he saw Gilbert finally after so many years... But while Russia was sadistic, Germany had never seen him as this kind of evil.

Many nations were terrified of Russia, and he had his own rather generous share of torture. but he had never harmed any nations to their real breaking point. Not the way that Prussia was now.

Germany felt bad for forcing Prussia to come out here. He had no right to do so when it was never his business and he had no idea what had happened. Still, just to make sure he had the situation figured out, Germany bent down in front of his brother. "Is it true?"

Prussia let out a shaky breath. "Why? Are you ashamed, West? That you have such a worthless, pathetic bruder who everyone hates so much because he likes to mess around? So weak that he can't even defend himself anymore, let alone you."

"You're not weak." Germany said with a frown as Romano walked out of the room with a few grumbles. Germany still wasn't sure why Romano had come to know what had happened, but he didn't want to ask. Frankly, he didn't want any of the grueling details. He didn't think he'd be able to listen to it.

All the nations were shocked when Germany announced that he would be taking the other half of the meeting off. Except for Francis and Antonio, who were shooting looks at Gilbert as if studying him for the first time. Gilbert leaned into Lovino for protection. Feliciano didn't seem to mind that they were all leaving early, he never paid attention to meetings anyway, and didn't ask why Ludwig had the sudden change of heart.

* * *

"It's not Canada's fault, you know." Prussia said later that day. Ludwig had left him in Lovino's care, taking Feliciano back to Germany with him. Lovino would have normally thrown a fit about something like that but frankly after all that he didn't trust the Prussian in the hands of anyone else.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Romano said, furrowing his eyebrows.

"He was raised by France before he was handed off to England. He's heard so much stuff against Francis that it's second nature to him to protect him." Prussia curled up. "Besides, I wouldn't believe me either."

"It's no excuse." Lovino said with a frown. "And it's not your fault."

"I wasn't clear enough."

"I'm pretty sure 'stop' is pretty fucking clear." He replied, petting his hair softly.

"Not to them."

"Well that's their problem." Lovino stressed. "It's not your fault." He curled up beside of him slowly as if not to startle him. Gilbert didn't tense, just glanced at him oddly. When he didn't push him away Lovino embraced him, resting a hand against his side protectively, though he still kept him at a distance.

Gilbert sighed, though he pushed back against his warmth. Lovino was comforting somehow. He would always protect him. He was the only safe person in his life, the only thing stable, that he could trust to be there for him.

Eventually, slowly, Gilbert stopped tensing up anytime someone moved too fast. With Lovino and Ludwig's support, he slowly began to get better. He would never be the same, but Lovino couldn't help that. He could only attempt to make it as easy as he could, help him to the best of his ability. He couldn't ever fully recover from something that traumatic, but Lovino could try to the best of his ability to make him feel safe enough that he didn't punch anyone who tried to greet him out of reflex, or corner himself in panic.

* * *

He still had the same nightmares after three years. They weren't as recent, but they were there. When he came to, Lovino was always beside him, quelling his screams and whimpers. He would hold him until he fall asleep.

Was it then fate that he had fallen in love with him sometime over the past few years? He thought that the pain of Canada's disbelief in what had happened to him, the subsequent dissolving of their friendship, would have sent him back into his life as a recluse until the day he disappeared, but then Lovino had slipped up one night.

Gilbert woke up, paralysed in fear, a gentle hand brushing his hair softly. Lovino must have heard his screaming and come in like he normally did. There was a cold, wet towel pressed on his head, likely to soak up the sweat that had formed. Lovino kissed his cheek softly. "You're safe, amore. Nothing will hurt you now." Gilbert leaned into him, but his mind registered the term that he had used.

"Is it true?"

"What?"

Prussia's heart beat hard in his chest, the way it did whenever Canada would smile at him. "Do you really love me?"

Romano blushed, thankful to the night that it would hide the shade that he had turned. "Go back to sleep idiota. You're delusional now."

Prussia just smiled, knowing what he has heard. He leaned in and kissed Romano gently. Romano lifted his hands up after he got over his shock to gently push him away. "Prussia?"

"Hmm?" Romano didn't reply. Prussia felt him move and then the door shut a few seconds later. Was that... Not what Romano had wanted? Maybe he had been wrong. Prussia couldn't handle the idea that he had messed up the signals. He leaned back against the bedframe, knowing that he would never get any sleep.

* * *

Romano refused to touch him for the next week. Prussia was already in the middle of packing to return to his brother when he couldn't take it anymore and called Veneziano. Partially to inform him of his return to Germany and relay it to his brother—Ludwig had been so busy that week that he didn't want to disturb the nation himself—and also to maybe figure out Romano's behaviour.

Was Lovino that disturbed and revolted by him? Maybe it was because he wasn't a nation, maybe he didn't want someone so useless. Maybe he had always secretly hated him and had only helped him out of pity.

Veneziano had frowned on the other end of the phone and spoke in the most mature and serious tone that he had heard from him. "Prussia... Think about it. Romano has seen you at your worst, he knows what you have gone through. My brother acts weird sometimes, but he thinks it's best for you not to love him. He doesn't believe that you could."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Prussia said with a frown.

"Romano has a... Well, it's my fault I think. The other nations wanted us both as colonies but they preferred me. If anyone wanted him he made up excuses about it only being because of Grandpa's inheritance or settling for him."

"What's that got to do with me?"

"You've been hurt." Veneziano said. "He thinks it's just because he's been taking care of you, or that you consider it payment for him helping you. Or worse—"

"That its not what I want. I'm only doing it because I think it's what he expects." Of course! Romano wanted him too. That's why he had called him his "amore." His lover. But after all that Prussia had gone through, Romano clearly believed that he only wanted the Italian because the Italian wanted him first... Romano thought that he was taking advantage of the Prussian.

Prussia needed to fix that. So he invited Veneziano over to help him make genuine Italian food. Their phone call had made him realise that the bubbly North Italian might not be as oblivious as he acted. This was further confirmed when he gave him ideas for how to seduce Romano.

Which was why Romano returned to a candlelit dinner, a bouquet of roses, and a gentle smile. The Italian had rolled his eyes as he was handed the roses with a kiss to his cheek.

"What the hell is this?"

Prussia grinned. "My awesomeness." Romano looked unconvinced, but said nothing. It was nice hearing him call himself that word again. "Your brother helped a little." He added, clearly as an afterthought.

Romano chuckled and Prussia pulled out his seat for him. Romano sat down across from him but he wasn't sure what was going on. Even before Prussia had confirmed it, the whole thing had reeked of Veneziano.

"What do you think?" Prussia asked.

"Food's not terrible. Doesn't taste like my brother's." He looked perplexed.

"It's not. He only helped me on that."

"You made this?" Romano said. Prussia nodded and Romano frowned. "This is about what happened the other day isn't it? Dammit, you idiot."

Prussia looked at him. "I... I think I'm in love with you Lovi..."

Lovino frowned. "Look, bastardo. I made a mistake. You don't need to pretend to love me because it's what you think I want. I'm not going to hold it against you."

"I'm not pretending."

"I'm not taking advantage of you." Romano said sternly. Prussia sighed and moved closer to kiss his cheek.

"I meant it. I want this. I want _you."_ Romano reached for his face gently.

"Are you sure?" Romano's face was serious. Prussia nodded and the Italian pressed his lips gently against the albino's, allowing him to back away if he wanted to. He didn't.

Romano deepened the kiss when he didn't pull away. Prussia moved his arms so that he held his waist tenderly and Romano melted into his embrace.

Prussia had never felt such intimacy in his life. The emotions that were festering were overwhelming him, but he did not pull away until Romano did. He found the other's lips on his a second time, more firmer. Romano begged for entrance with his tongue and Prussia granted it.

The whole room felt overbearingly hot and the almost untouched food laid forgotten by the two as Prussia willed submission with a moan and a light whimper.

Romano pulled away. His hands moved to Prussia's shirt, clinging to it. He unbuttoned the first hole and glanced back up to gauge his newfound lover's reaction. He had always thought that Prussia would be a dominating lover, but he knew that the other probably believed that he needed this, needed someone to wash away the scars that would never truly heal. Someone to make him feel like he was, in fact, awesome.

And that was what Romano was intending to do. When Prussia gave a slight nod of encouragement Romano removed the shirt all the way. Romano really didn't want to go this far with him—he still felt that it was taking advantage of his vulnerability—but Prussia spurred him on as he felt the German's fingers travel tentatively to the nation's own buttons. Romano's shirt soon followed.

"You're awesome." Romano mumbled, pulling his head back for another quick kiss. Romano wasn't much of a compliment type, but he wanted his lover to enjoy what he was doing, _want_ what he was doing. This was about Gilbert, not what Lovino was comfortable doing.

The pants were off next. Lovino stopped to ask if it was okay three times before he felt it safe enough to proceed. His own were removed not that long after.

Prussia tensed as he felt fingers touching the front of his boxers, rubbing the spot. The fingers pulled away immediately even as Prussia leaned up into the touch.

Romano sighed. "We don't have to—"

Prussia wasn't an idiot. He knew why Romano was still trying to tell him no. "I _need_ this. Please." He almost wished Romano wasn't so _perfect,_ that he was more insensitive. But he knew that otherwise he might not be able to handle it, even though he wanted to, wanted him so much that everything ached.

Romano was hesitant, but persisted. He went back to rubbing the Prussian gently. "Is this okay?" Romano wasn't used to being the dominant one in a relationship nor this gentle, but he knew that he needed to go slow.

Prussia moaned and Romano felt tender hands sliding off his boxers. Romano began doing the same to Prussia who shivered under his touch.

Romano reached for Prussia's member, stroking it gently. Gilbert moaned under his touch. "Lovi—" He breathed out. The encouragement caused him to speed up, all the while mumbling sweet nothings and compliments that even Antonio had never received.

Prussia threw his head back with a mewl when Lovino flicked the tip with a slight smirk. Romano pulled his hand back and started gently guiding him backwards in the direction the Italian's room. When Gilbert's back hit the door he twisted the knob without looking back.

Lovino shoved him gently onto his bed and kissed him softly. "I meant it, idiota. We don't have to—"

Gilbert shut him up with a kiss. "Please... Lovi..." The nation nodded and reached back into a drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube.

"And you're absolutely sure about this?" He asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Yes, now fuck me!" Prussia exclaimed. He loved him so much, wanted him so much... He had to have him.

Romano smiled at him and kissed his chest lovingly. "Alright. If you get uncomfortable—"

"I won't." Prussia rolled his eyes and grinded up against him to get the point across. Romano started to prepare him, adoring the mewls that fell from his lover's lips.

Romano had never topped before, Spain wouldn't let him. But now he had someone beneath him, trusting him enough to willingly submit to him. Romano felt an odd urge to protect him. It was different than he had imagined it to be. Spain had always been dominating and passionate. Romano didn't want to be anything but gentle and sweet.

As he entered him slowly, pushing in as gently as he could, Romano listened to the moans coming from the Prussian beneath him. He had caused this, this pleasure that the Prussian was feeling. He stayed still for a bit to let him adjust to him, feeling his light pants and whimpers. "M-move." Prussia said softly.

Romano did, pulling out gently until he was only halfway in and then pushed back in slowly. He was going slow. He didn't want to startle him on his first _real_ time, what should have been his first time. Slowly, as Prussia began moaning more and more, begging for him to go faster, Romano did. Frankly, Romano had to force himself to go the speed that he had. It was so tight, so unbearably hot, so wonderful, that it was almost torturous for him.

Eventually he was thrusting at a fast pace, but staying gentle in his movements, handling his lover as if he was fragile, the single most important item of value in his possession. And Gilbert loved it when he marked him as his own and curled up against his naked chest, collapsing not long after he had pulled out of him.

He was truly the Italian's. And it wasn't scary or fearful submitting to him. Because he could trust him not to make him feel uncomfortable, and to listen to him. It was his choice, not anyone else's. Not even Lovino's.

"Ich liebe dich, Italien." He mumbled against Romano's neck.

The Italian opened his eyes. "I'm not Italy. That's Veneziano."

"I thought you couldn't speak German?"

"I can't…" He said with a blush. "It's a stupid potato language."

"Sure… But you are Italy."

"Am not…." Romano frowned, remembering how Gilbert had told him not to call him by his nation name all that time ago, when he was at his worst. Prussia raised an eyebrow at him, eyes lit up in understanding. They both had their share of issues, of burdens that no one but each other could really understand, though Romano knew that he could never fully comprehend the pain that his newfound lover had gone through that day. "I…. Anch'io ti amo, albino patate." He mumbled kissing his chest, cursing his shortness.

They would get through it together.


End file.
